Transmigrating into the world of Jade Dynasty, I was targeted by the female lead in a reverse romanc

When Jiang Xiaochuan woke up, his mind went blank for a moment.

Beneath her was a soft touch, covered by a warm quilt, and a faint, girlish fragrance lingered in the air, along with... the warmth of another person's body.

He suddenly opened his eyes.

The first thing that catches the eye is the moon-white fabric so close at hand, and the soft, undulating curves beneath it.

His face was pressed against... somewhere it shouldn't be.

His gaze slowly moved upwards, meeting a pair of eyes that were quietly watching him, eyes that held a hint of laziness and amusement.

Biyao lay on her side, supporting her head with one hand, while her other hand was loosely wrapped around his waist.

Seeing that he was awake, the corners of her mouth curved into a smile, her voice slightly hoarse from just waking up:

"Awake? Did you sleep well?"

Jiang Xiaochuan: "…………"

He froze on the spot, his mind seemingly frozen, completely unable to process the situation before him.

He remembered that he was sleeping against the wall, so how did he find himself on the floor, in Biyao's arms, when he opened his eyes?

Seeing his bewildered expression, Biyao's smile deepened. She didn't rush to let go, but instead watched him leisurely.

Jiang Xiaochuan finally recovered from the huge shock. He suddenly pulled back, trying to break free from Biyao's embrace. His movement was so big that he almost rolled off the mat.

He sat up in a fluster, pointed at Biyao, his finger trembling slightly, and could barely speak:

"You...you...I...how could I...what did you do to me?!"

He wanted to say, "Are you lusting after my body?", but the words caught in his throat and he swallowed them back. His face, however, began to burn uncontrollably.

Biyao slowly sat up, tidying her slightly disheveled hair and clothes, her posture composed, as if she hadn't been the one holding someone while they slept.

She glanced at Jiang Xiaochuan and said in a flat tone, "It's nothing. I just saw you sitting there sleeping and looked pitiful, so I carried you over."

Jiang Xiaochuan: "..."

Looking at her self-righteous demeanor, he felt a lump in his throat, unable to swallow it down. After a long while, he finally managed to utter, "...I don't need your pity!"

"Oh," Biyao responded, her tone lacking sincerity. She threw off the covers and got up, stepping barefoot onto the stone floor. She stretched, her moon-white dress outlining her slender waist.

She turned around and looked at Jiang Xiaochuan, who was still sitting on the floor, his expression shifting. She then naturally changed the subject:

"I'm hungry. What should we eat today?"

Jiang Xiaochuan glared at her, his chest heaving a few times, but he finally gave in.

He wiped his face, resignedly rummaged through his storage space, and soon pulled out an oil paper package. He opened it and found a large, hot, glossy pork knuckle with a rich, dark brown color, and its aroma instantly filled the air.

This was an extra portion he ordered when he ate at Shanhaiyuan Restaurant before, which he then packed up and stored away.

Biyao's eyes lit up, and she immediately came closer.

……

And so, in this dark and sunless dripping blood cave, no one knows how much time passed—perhaps seven or eight days, perhaps longer—time lost its meaning.

The two still shared a bed, although Jiang Xiaochuan went from being stiff and resistant at the beginning to being half-willing and half-willing, and finally... he seemed to get used to it.

Every night, Biyao would lie down naturally and reach out to hug his cold waist. Jiang Xiaochuan would stiffen for a long time at first, until sleepiness overcame his reason, and he would fall into a deep sleep in the warm embrace.

When they woke up, sometimes he woke up first, sometimes she did, but in any case, the two were always very close.

Jiang Xiaochuan would go to the stone chamber with the celestial script carved on it every day and stare at the stone wall for most of the day.

He read those profound characters very slowly and very carefully, as if he were copying them stroke by stroke with his eyes.

Sometimes, when she was engrossed in watching something, a very faint, strange aura would emanate from her body. It was very subtle, but Biyao could sense it.

His body seemed to be undergoing some indescribable change in this day-to-day "watching," his aura becoming increasingly deep and concentrated, and the occasional, unintentional leak of a trace of energy would make Biyao feel a faint palpitation.

Biyao would follow him most of the time.

When he wasn't reading the celestial book, she would be beside him, either playing with the acacia bell, quietly watching him, or closing her eyes to rest.

She seemed uninterested in the supreme and profound method that pointed directly to the origin of heaven and earth, and instead preferred to watch Jiang Xiaochuan's focused and slightly furrowed brows as he comprehended it.

Gradually, in this absolutely closed and isolated space, in the daily routine of facing each other, being silent, and sharing food and body heat, Biyao felt that she seemed to... understand this person a little bit.

He seems lazy and casual, and sometimes his words are annoying, but he is actually not a bad person at heart, and is even a little...overly soft-hearted.

He would remember to save food for her, and would give her the only warm blanket (although in the end it always ended up being shared between the two of them). When she woke up from a nightmare, even though his body was stiff, he would not push away the hand she was holding tightly.

He has a strange stubbornness in his bones.

It was true for the book that day, and it was true for certain things. For example, he never let her get close to the stone wall with the curse of infatuation carved on it again. Every time they passed by, he would intentionally or unintentionally block her with his body.

He seems to be hiding a lot of things on his mind.

Sometimes, when he looks at the stone wall, his eyes will wander, as if he is seeing a very distant place and a very distant person through those ancient words. At that time, he will be enveloped in a faint layer of loneliness and melancholy that she cannot touch.

Sometimes Biyao would think that staying here like this might not be so bad.

There was no conflict between good and evil, no responsibility of the Ghost King Sect's young lady, no bloody past and scheming, only this somewhat strange, somewhat annoying, yet irresistibly approachable Qingyun Sect boy, and this eternal, safe silence.

……

The platform above the Abyss of the Dead.

Lu Xueqi, holding the dark red God-Slaying Spear, had been standing here for who knows how long.

The wind blew her light blue dress and jet-black hair, but she remained motionless like a jade sculpture, her eyes fixed on the bottomless abyss below, where black mist churned.

Qi Hao, Fa Xiang, Li Xun, and others later tried to search several more times.

However, the terrain beneath the Abyss of the Dead is complex and treacherous, teeming with evil spirits, and even harbors traces of ancient demonic beasts like the Blackwater Serpent. They dared not venture deep, and their several searches all ended in failure.

Each time they returned with solemn expressions, they could only shake their heads in silence when they met Lu Xueqi's cold, stubborn eyes, which seemed to burn with ghostly fire.

Lu Xueqi didn't say anything, but tightened her grip on the gun even more.

On this day, the God-Slaying Spear in her arms suddenly trembled slightly without any warning.

It was very faint, but Lu Xueqi sensed it instantly. She abruptly looked down at the spear in her arms.

The dark red luster on the gun barrel, which had been dim, suddenly brightened, as if a sleeping beast had briefly opened its eyes.

Immediately, the gun floated up from her arms and hovered in mid-air, its tip pointing downwards towards the ground.

Lu Xueqi held her breath, her eyes fixed straight ahead.

The tip of the God-Slaying Spear began to slowly slide across the dusty, rocky ground.

A horizontal stroke, a vertical stroke, a left-falling stroke, a right-falling stroke... the strokes are drawn slowly and steadily, as if the person holding the pen is concentrating on writing.

The two characters gradually took shape