Missy, Want to Be My Dao-Partner?

Liang Jingxuan, the mysterious black-clad man outside the sedan, pulled his hood lower and lifted the curtain.

The wedding plate was spotless and empty. Peanut shells littered the floor, jujube pits rolled about, and the bride inside was clutching her throat as if she’d been choked. Seeing him enter, she rolled her eyes and was too irritated to speak.

Liang Jingxuan took one look at the bare plate and at Lin Qianshuang choking, imagined a dramatic scene, and suddenly understood everything. He scrambled in, prised the hand from her neck, grasped her shoulders, and cried, “Senior sister, why do this to yourself? You’re a soul body; even swallowing every last offering won’t kill you. If you truly want to die, come away with me instead. Don’t be so foolish!”

“…….”

Lin Qianshuang’s qi was shaken into chaos; a fragment of nut almost lodged in her throat. She stared at Liang Jingxuan’s anxious, handsome face; her vision blurred and her stomach churned.

“Ugh….”

Red, white, green; meat, veg: Lin Qianshuang emptied every last thing onto that sanctimonious face.

She eyed Liang Jingxuan, whose eyebrows were dripping slime along with the rest of him, dabbed her mouth with a handkerchief, gave an apologetic grin and spread her hands. “Sorry, Junior Brother Liang, motion sickness.”

She had assumed a ghost couldn’t puke on a living person; apparently demon cultivators were different. A living soul could condense residual demonic qi into a solid form, much like the split souls of the Deity Transformation stage.

Realizing he had misread the scene, Liang Jingxuan’s face went black; the swaggering black robe had to come off.

He was mortified. To impress women he usually filled his storage jade with brocade robes; today’s black outfit had been chosen to look enigmatic in front of Chen Shangqing, to pass for an unfathomable expert. Senior Sister Lin had just upgraded the mystique with vomit.

Even after a drying spell the stench lingered, and so did his disgust.

Any other woman who dared treat him this way would already be tasting his fist, but the face before him, though not ravishing, was the unattainable moon in his heart; vulgar sluts could not be mentioned in the same breath.

Reluctantly, Liang Jingxuan changed into white. To keep his air of mystery, he pulled an iron ghost mask from his storage pouch and covered his face. He stuffed the perfectly cut black robe into his dimensional space, lamenting that this swap dimmed his otherworldly coolness.

Lin Qianshuang glanced left and right. When Liang Jingxuan lifted the sedan curtain, Xiao Lanle had vanished; she must have used the Shark Pearl to hide herself again.

“Senior Sister, you can come down. Young Master Chen has been waiting for you at Yuelao Temple for a long time.”

Liang Jingxuan wore a ghost mask and flashy white robes, his voice deliberately pitched lower.

Lin Qianshuang hopped down from the sedan, gathering her crimson wedding dress train in one hand. As she stepped past him, he pleaded with unshaken hope, “Qianshuang, if you want to walk away from this ghost marriage, just say it. I’ll take you with me. Wanbao Pavilion is nothing but frosting on the cake; for your sake I can throw it away.”

The chosen son of heaven always spins sweet lies whenever he spots a pretty face. Every supporting woman he courted in the original tale had received the same vow of undying devotion.

Lin Qianshuang couldn’t be bothered. She flung her red bridal veil straight into Liang Jingxuan’s arms, drew her sword, and marched toward Yuelao Temple in full, fearless aura.

If the reborn love rival wanted her dead, he still needed to ask whether she was willing to cooperate.

She was nothing like the disposable walk-ons who followed the script in the original story.

Liang Jingxuan stared as Lin Qianshuang strode past him, the so-called guide, hurrying toward the wedding hall inside Yuelao Temple as though she could not wait to arrive. Surprise flickered across his face.

Had his warning been unclear? Once the underworld union was written into the Marriage Register, she would die!

His senior sister would rather sprint to her own execution than linger for a moment of persuasion.

He had planned to dazzle her with that so-called kingly charisma, gambling that a few honeyed sentences would bend her will. Yet the instant she ignored him and marched on, every tender word curdled in his throat, and his face darkened another shade.

Every other woman in this world swayed at the sound of his voice. Why did nothing, neither supposed destiny nor convenient cheats, work on this one?

Is it only because they’re both Earthlings?

Inside the Yuelao Temple, prayer ribbons filled the dense boughs of the thousand-year-old ginkgo. Fan shaped leaves drifted onto the dust heaped inside a rusty tripod; half person tall white candles, buried in incense ash for the ritual, flickered back and forth, their bodies carved with a red “happiness” that looked painted in chicken blood.

A green-robed man sat in the place of honor clutching Xu Zheng’s spirit tablet. A straw-stuffed paper figure stood motionless before him, a red silk flower ball tied to its chest.

Lin Qianshuang lifted off the heavy phoenix crown, shrugged away the wedding cape, and stared straight at Chen Shangqing. “Junior Brother Chen, I thought you a gentleman. Turns out you’re just another sanctimonious hypocrite. If I’m right, you had a hand in pushing Junior Sister Xiao into the sect-leader trial ahead of time. For the position of sect leader you’d even wound the junior sister you once claimed to love. Who is this tragic show for? Chen Shangying’s death can’t be separated from your reckless, boorish conduct.”

“Senior Sister Xiao’s trial was never my intention,” Chen Shangqing replied. “I never imagined Second Brother would try to kill her, shoving her into the trial while she was deep in secluded cultivation.”

He remained seated, gaze fixed on Lin Qianshuang. “Senior Sister, I don’t want the leadership. I only mean to collect the blood debts of the guilty before returning the seat to Junior Sister Xiao.”

Lin Qianshuang stared at him in exasperation, jabbing a thumb at her own chest. “Then what deep grudge do you hold against me?”

Chen Shangqing’s face was blank, his eyes sizing her up as though she were already a corpse. “I’m waiting for someone to appear. Senior Sister, you’re the bait. When the moment comes, you’ll be a worthless, expendable piece. Besides, my second brother was fond of you. The two of you were betrothed as children; you are his wife. Even in death you remain his ghost bride, destined to share his tomb.”

“But your second brother never cared for me.”

“Yet Junior Sister Xiao cares for you.”

Lin Qianshuang’s retort was cut short by Chen Shangqing.

Tch, so this is pure personal vengeance. The reborn male supporting lead still can’t win the female supporting lead, and now he’s realized she’s fallen for a mere cannon-fodder.

Lin Qianshuang felt a stab of sympathy: in Chen Shangqing’s shoes she would hate this glitch too, jealous that Junior Sister Xiao cared for an outsider.

Chen Shangqing said, “You’ll ruin her. The future sect leader of Penglai Immortal Sect can’t consort with a demon cultivator.”

His gaze sharpened as it flicked toward her. “Senior Sister, you don’t want Junior Sister Xiao disgraced and driven out, do you?”

Lin Qianshuang’s retort died in her throat; her eyes swept the hall while she silently mouthed at the invisible Xiao Lanle, See? Your rotten peach blossoms¹ are why I’m in this mess.

Xiao Lanle, hidden beside her, gave her hand a quick squeeze. “Senior Sister, Chen Shangqing is setting a trap. Step back; don’t go near. One pace ahead lies a one-way barrier: easy to enter, almost impossible to leave. I think the binding curse of the ghost marriage waits inside.”